


pinned butterflies (and bullets for wings)

by leprixx



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Blackmail, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Homophobia, Japan, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Teen Years, Unhealthy Relationships, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:42:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leprixx/pseuds/leprixx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changmin was too fascinated by him to know better, to ask for intricacies, to stop himself and wonder if this was what he wanted, liked, deserved. </p><p>(Jaejoong sings and smiles and breathes and brands. Changmin bleeds.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and you can have my empire of dust

**Author's Note:**

> slight spoilery notes at the end, please read if any of the tags can trigger you in any way
> 
>  
> 
> *the first chapter is situated in the present (located in south korea) and the second chapter is situated in the past (located in japan). the rest of the fic will follow the timeline exposed in the second chapter.

Changmin avoids the bar on saturdays. He treats it as one would a plague, even going as far as to drink home alone, but this particular saturday Kyuhyun had shown up on his doorstep all dressed in leather and draped over Zhou Mi and Minho, and Minho's eyes had been particularly full of ' _Please don't leave me alone with them_ ', enough for him to sigh, leave Yunho a note and change into skin-tight black jeans and follow them into the bar, guitars loud enough to be heard from outside.

He grimaces, and manages to get the bartender's attention just as the first verse of the song begins, all velvet disgust as Jaejoong starts to sing in accented english about violating and desecrating and penetr- "Fuck", Changmin says, and the bartender shakes his head with a smile of ' _Been there, done that_ ' before exchanging his how-many-wons bill for a whole bottle of soju. "FUCK" He says again, as Jaejoong moans about it, the bastard, and he turns to accuse it into Minho's face but he's alone already, and his eyes end up meeting Jaejoong's, despite the crowd, despite the years of avoiding, despite the shame and anger and what-more burning through him.

\--

He's taller than Jaejoong, now, at least ten centimeters having found their way into his legs since the last time he'd ran into Jaejoong at the grocery store, in Seoul of all places. He'd fled, back then, suffocated with how he still felt panic and lust at the mere sight of the other, but he's braver, now, and had just downed a second bottle of soju so why not?

It's not like he can't take a bit humiliation, not like he doesn't want Jaejoong's hands on him, under his shirt, nails dragging into his pants and leaving red in their wake. It's not he doesn't want Jaejoong to break him and leave him green-yellow-blue-purple, not like he doesn't want Jaejoong to leave him bleeding and begging for more.

And Jaejoong sings it next, the fucker, eyes leaving his briefly to whisper something to the band before turning right back around, chin tucked close to his chest as the song starts, bass and drums and Changmin's lungs stop, eyes closing back to the first time Jaejoong had truly fucked him, Changmin's face pressed into the pillows by one of Jaejoong's hands as the other pressed into the bruises blooming along his sides, voice faltering and full of laughter as he fucked Changmin, hips as unforgiving as him, even as Changmin choked through tears and snot and the pure terror of liking it, loving it, of being a bitch for pain.

\--

Jaejoong's hair is darker now, different from the burnt-copper or outright white-ish blond that Changmin remembers from Japan. It falls on his face in a shade just a tad lighter than black, asymmetrical and he knows how soft it is, how it smells like wood and spice and Jaejoong's pillow.

"Changmin-ah" He says, smiling with closed lips and dark eyes, brown so dark it edges on black. To anyone else he'd look like a god, eyeliner smeared along his lower lashes, hair damp on his forehead, lips pink. Changmin knows better.

"Jaejoong." He says, voice rougher than intended. Jaejoong's eyes sparkle with mirth, lines deepening on the edges of them, on the corners of his mouth.

"The band is going to stay and drink for a bit, so no one will bother me if we leave now." It's not really an offer, mostly a command - Changmin knows him, knows what the tilt of his head means, Changmin knows this, knows he shouldn't, knows so many things, knows the taste of Jaejoong on the back of his throat and-

"Okay."

\--

The apartment where Jaejoong lives still smells of new, surfaces shining under the bright lights. It's not lived in, even though a cat is burrowed in the corner of the cream-colored leather couch.

"You want something to drink?" The older asks, kicking his shoes off before going to the kitchen.

"Tea, please." He bites off the urge to add a suffix after that, but bends down instead, carefully arranging Jaejoong's shoes on the shoe-rack before toeing his off and carefully placing them next to the door.

Jaejoong is sitting on a stool when he gets to the kitchen, can of beer open and tea-leaves on a spoon, waiting for the water to boil on the stove.

"You remember the song?" He asks when some time has passed and Changmin had chosen to sit on the tool closest to him.

"I-" He tries to reign himself in, to stop from crying or worse, begging, but Jaejoong knows. Jaejoong knows the young Changmin, the weak Changmin, the desperate Changmin. Sometimes he wonders is that's the real one, instead of the Changmin he presents here in Seoul - the strong, snarky, determined guy who snorts at lovesick girls and professes his hate for things without hesitation.  
Sometimes he wonders if he loves Jaejoong, or the things he does to him, or everything, or if he hates, or if he's alive- "Yes."

"I sang that one for you" Jaejoong smiles, beer wetting his lips, and he always does that, doesn't he? Teases behind a glass, behind a drink, behind a truth.

"Thank you" He says, because what else? He knows the song, inside and out, all about bruises and leaving and he remembers sequences of Jaejoong beating him and singing it, interspersed with no orders but the ones falling through Jaejoong's lips, remembers coughing blood and memorizing english, the taste of fear heavy on his tongue.

(He remembers too many things)

\--

Changmin is a bit more what Jaejoong always wanted but wasn't aware of, until now. Now that he's all muscles and raised chin. Skin clear, unblemished if not for the scars hidden under fabric. – Jaejoong says it, when Changmin is exhausted and boneless, limbs spread haphazardly on the dirty futon, blood drying on the inside of his ankles. He's all exposed skin now, and the scar on the inside of his left wrist tingles as Jaejoong brushes his dry lips on it.

\--

(" _You're too young for this. Too young for_ him", Dongwook had said.

"I'm in college, hyung" He'd snapped, ear pressed to his phone even as he stood in front of the full-body mirror, empty hand trailing the cuts and bruises that spread all over his skin like paint, like an statement, like art and possession and love.

" _You're sixteen_ "

"Yeah, well, and the age of consent back home is thirteen so-"

" _He's twenty-five, Changmin. He's fucking twenty five and you're over a thousand miles away from home, you're over there by yourself, alone, and-_ "

"I wouldn't have told you if I knew you'd be like this." Changmin had said, finally, teeth grinding.

" _Changmin-_ "

"Never mind, hyung. I'm going to sleep." And hung up, as if that was that. 

And even back then, he knew. Knew that Dongwook was right - knew it was unhealthy and wrong and sick. It just happened that he also knew how much he loved it, how much he craved it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is a quite presumptuous attempt at exposing how warped our view about a relationship can be when we're in it. 
> 
> \--
> 
> the main part of this story follows as:
> 
> Jaejoong is an older male who starts a friendly and later sexual relationship with Changmin, a teenager who is still quite naive and has been recently alienated (by choice) from his friends and family. Their relationship, which is arguably romantic but certainly sexual, ends up with Changmin alienating himself even more from his social circle. 
> 
> \- There are some stances of Jaejoong acting violently  
> \- Jaejoong attempts (& succeeds) in controlling Changmin and other characters without their consent  
> \- Jaejoong hurts Changmin without prior discussion of his actions  
> \- Jaejoong is 10 years older than Changmin  
> \- Even in the (few) stances when Changmin is offered an opportunity to consent with Jaejoong's demands, he is still a minor and therefore legally unable to make these decisions on his own
> 
> if any of this affects you negatively or makes you uncomfortable, please proceed with caution.
> 
> also, please let me know if there's anything i forgot to tag for.


	2. (you can wear it like a crown)

Changmin had been a freshman when he met Jaejoong, still all big-eyed wonder and stuttering anxiety, trying not to let a '-hyung' slip because, fuck, he's in Japan, what the fuck had he been thinking and shit this is not his place, he shouldn't be here, fuck his ambition and need to be more, fuck it fuck it fuck it he just wants to be home and-

"Hey" Said a voice, all air and a smile when he looked up, bright blond hair styled and exposed ears glittering with all the piercings covering it. "You're Changmin, right? I was told to help you around since, well, yeah." The guys laughs, all korean and dialect, and then extends a hand when Changmin does nothing but breathe and blink at him. "I'm Jaejoong."

\--

Jaejoong had moved to Japan "For freedom, mostly" He had said, licking his lips. "Told everyone that I wanted to improve my japanese and what-not but I came because, well, I could only stand so many sisters on my back for so much longer before actually going insane"

"So you're not?" Changmin arches an eyebrow, daring, testing Jaejoong's limits.

"That's for you to find you, Changmin-ah" And he grins something private into his coffee, like a secret that he's dangling in front of Changmin.

"Is it?" Under the table, he's pressing his nails on the inside of his thighs.

Jaejoong looks at him then, raises his head and meets his eyes. "The music made me stay."

Changmin nods, back straight and blood thundering through his ears.

\--

"Where do you live?" Jaejoong asks, pulling the hood of his hoodie up, down until most of his face is hidden. Changmin looks at him from the corner of his eyes and tries to pretend that he's busy with the contents of his satchel. "Relatives?"

"No, I. Came alone."

"Oh." Jaejoong turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Um, I got a scholarship."

"You did?"

"Yeah, because I skipped two years..."

"You did?" Both of Jaejoong's brows are raised now.

"I'm sixteen." He feels ashamed, somehow. "And sharing with a guy from Hong Kong who also got a scholarship. He's nice."

"Ah." They stop in front of the subway station. "Do you want me to go wi-"

"No. Yes." The buckle at the sleeve of his jacket catches in his earphones and he curses, yanking on it. "I-"

"It's getting late." Jaejoong's eyes are the only thing visible in his face, now, with the setting sun shining from behind him, red and orange and yellow and beautiful. It reminds him of destruction, of the warmth of come, of the way fire crackles and hisses and implodes and consumes. "Will be dark soon."

"Yeah." He says lamely, giving up and pulling his hand out of his bag, earphones hanging pathetically from his sleeve and clattering against each other.

"Let me help." Voice soft, and hands grazing Changmin's, warmness practically radiating from him. Shadows crossing his cheekbones, and the dip of his collarbones visible when so close. Smelling of expensive cologne, cheap cigarettes. "Here." Jaejoong's fingers are cold when they touch Changmin's, earphones untangled and instead winded neatly.

Maybe he'd been staring for too long. "Thank you."

Jaejoong raises his face, and anyone else would have responded, stepped back. Instead, their eyes meet.

\--

"I've told you that I sing, right?" Jaejoong's hands are tucked inside his pockets, sneakers writing characters on the sand before wiping them off.

Changmin sits at the swing closest to him, legs moving him back and forth lazily. Looking, categorizing, memorizing. "Yeah."

"We're playing tonight." Jaejoong turns to him, eyes still fixed on whatever bullshit he's writing in a mix of korean and japanese. "At that one bar with the chinese guy-"

"Hangeng?"

"Oh, you know him?" Jaejoong wipes the characters out and does a horrible attempt at writing Hangeng's name. Changmin snorts before standing up and writing his own - legible- version of the other's name.

"He's the TA of one of my classes." Jaejoong comes to stand beside him, shoulders touching. "I heard some of the guys asking him about discount and then they offered to take me there later."

"You're going?" Jaejoong's shoulder presses more firmly against his, and that's not really the question. It's rather a _You're coming?_

"What time are you playing?" He asks, and can almost taste the smile on Jaejoong's face as he answers.

\--

The guys are loud and speaking in japanese too fast for Changmin to understand, so he orders a beer and sips it through half an hour, then sighs and fumbles for a pen inside his coat's pocket, plugs his earphones in and starts calculating. It's half of an idea for his latest engineering class and half of an self-indulgent design that he had abandoned last month.

It's something that he knows will looks good, all straight lines and rounded edges, a useless piece meant to change by itself through the year, but there are some parts that hadn't been moving right in his last miniature. He starts by listing off possible materials and then moves on to calculating how would the temperature affect them, and then gets lost in doodling possible alterations until his playlist ends.

He sighs and looks up, noticing that half his friends aren't there anymore and one of the four left has a girl on his lap, the other three talking in hushed tones while drinking from sake glasses. There's a girl singing something mildly disturbing from the stage set up at the far end of the room, and Changmin tries to decipher what language she's singing in as he folds the napkin and puts it in his pocket. Something european, russian maybe?

"Hey." The guys look up at him then, eyebrows raised, and Changmin sighs. They look angry. "I think I'm heading back-"

"Might as well, since we're not entertaining enough for you." One of them spits, and Changmin barely understands him as the other slurs through alcohol.

He wants to snap right back, say about how can he be entertained by people he can't understand, but then there's a sudden clatter behind him and a catcall. His friends all straighten, and then a bass starts playing.

He looks at the stage just as Jaejoong enters, blond-white hair styled away from his face, hands closing around the microphone stand.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, as Jaejoong starts with a wordless note, stretching it together with the bass and then taking a quick breath before following with words, quick-clear-cutting japanese rolling from his tongue with ease.

Oh.

\--

"You came." Jaejoong says, smile bright on his face, eyes unnaturally blue. He's wearing a dark red shirt that sports several rips and some bullshitted english spread all over it in big black letters.

Changmin is still standing by the table, thoughts scattered. He vaguely acknowledges the way their friends are gaping at the two of them.

"I did." He says, finally, when Jaejoong nudges him, smile now hesitant. "You-"

"Speak in japanese." A tall man says, coming from behind Jaejoong and dropping a hand on his shoulder. "Your friends are starting to look annoyed."

Changmin blinks at the man and then at his friends, who indeed are glaring at him.

"Ah, yeah. Um. Er. This is Jaejoong, and these are-" He starts, japanese scratching up his throat, unfamiliar. It feels weird, speaking it in front of Jaejoong - he feels inferior, somehow.

"You never said you knew tonight's main attraction." One of his friends say, and another follows up with "Did you even know? What with almost leaving-", and then "Yeah, why would you leave if your friend would be singing later?"

"I." He turns back at Jaejoong, but the other is staring at him intently, smile gone. The man behind him has his face carefully blank. "I. Uh. I have to go." And just like that he's leaving, ears burning and heartbeat loud in his ear, not stopping until he's out of the bar and the cold is on him brutally, but nowhere near as overpowering as the shame running through him.

\--

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Changmin startles, dropping the piece of pork that was halfway to his mouth inside the bowl of curry, which splatters all over his shirt. "Hyung." He says, and then looks down at his now-stained white shirt. "Shit."

"Not how I would describe it." Jaejoong sits across from him, and signals for a waiter. Changmin flushes and instead tries to clean his mess with napkins as Jaejoong places his order.

"I'm sorry" He says, after the waiter has left and he'd given up on saving his shirt.

"For?" There's a bit of amusement on the corners of Jaejoong's mouth, but his eyes are as cold as Changmin has ever seen them.

"Leaving. Wanting to. I... They got annoyed at me and I forgot. Just. Sorry."

"And?" Jaejoong takes his hands off the table when his meal arrives, and thanks the waiter before picking his chopsticks.

"And you sing like a rockstar?" He asks, looking down at his own food, now cold.

Jaejoong huffs out a laugh and starts eating after saying an amused "Thank you."

\--

 **come over after class** the text says, in clean hangul. there's a string of emojis attached, happy faces and sparkles.

Changmin looks at it, furrows his brow and then looks back at his Math teacher, the older woman's back curved as she spoke to a couple of students in front of class.

 **who is this?** he asks, even though he knows already.

 **rockstar-hyung!** followed by an address and **yunho said he'd buy the meat so you get the beer**

He sends an **ok** back and spends the rest of the lesson doodling music notes that he doesn't know on the margin of his notebook.


	3. trapped in amber, petrified / and still not satisfied

"Class ran late?" The same man from before asks, opening the door and stepping aside to let him in.

"Yeah. Yunho, right?" He asks, as the other locks the door behind him. Takes his shoes off and puts them on the empty space on the shoe-rack.

"Yeah. Come on, Jae went to take a shower and asked us to set the table."

Yunho takes the plastic bag from Changmin and places it on the table before going to the kitchen, moving through the cupboards with familiarity, handing Changmin cutlery and arranging the plates on the table as Changmin awkwardly weaves around him.

"Oh, you're here." Jaejoong says, coming out from what Changmin assumes is the bathroom. He's dressed in too-big black sweatpants and a white knitted sweater, hair hanging wet around his face.

"Yeah, sorry for the lateness." He says, stepping aside to let Yunho walk into the kitchen again.

"Hope you like spicy food." Jaejoong pushes his hair away from his face, takes a seat and gestures for Changmin to take another. Yunho comes back and puts a bowl of rice and another of kimchi on the table, before sitting on the chair closest to Jaejoong.

"I like it, actually." He says, half-smiling.

Jaejoong returns the smile and reaches for a can of beer, stops when he notices it's not. "Soda?"

"I'm sixteen." He says, looking down.

"But the bar?" Yunho turns to him, sets a warm hand over his wrist. Changmin's fingers twitch.

"I was with my friends." Raises his shoulders. "Am tall enough for no one to ask much. The lady at the convenience store knows me, though."

Yunho hums, squeezes his wrist before letting go. Jaejoong opens the can of soda and fills his glass.

\--

"You should be a chef." Changmin says, sighing as he sinks into the couch, hands cold from doing the dishes. Yunho makes a soft noise of agreement and sits on the other end of the couch.

"A chef and a rockstar." Jaejoong says, setting the magazine he'd been reading down and catching the remote before standing up from the armchair and going to sit between the two of them on the couch. He flips channels for a while before deciding in some korean historical drama that Changmin is sure his mom watches.

He gets engrossed in trying to understand the unknown kanjis that flitter across the screen in a pretense of subtitles, and when he looks over, Jaejoong and Yunho are curled together, Yunho asleep with his head tipped back and Jaejoong staring straight at him.

\--

Changmin finds himself thinking of Jaejoong when he jerks off. It makes him sigh and stop moving his hand, shuffle a bit more forward so that he can turn his face and plant his cheek against the shower tile.

It's not like he's never done this before, thinking of someone he knows, but with Jaejoong, it feels a bit more... Invasive. It feels more intense, too, because he usually thinks of bits and pieces, but with Jaejoong is not only that - not the image of his pink lips wrapped around Changmin's cock, or the ghost feeling of Jaejoong's thighs dimpling under his hands, or the bounce of Jaejoong's cock as he arches his back and asks for more, harder.

It's that Changmin starts moving his hand again and comes with the sound of Jaejoong's voice wrapping around his ears.

\--

**yunho is going away this weekend. you don't want hyung to feel lonely, right?**

Changmin puts the pen that he'd been using between his teeth, frowns at the screen of his phone.

**what do you want?**

**come stay the weekend with hyung!** , and an unnecessary amount of sparkly emojis.

\--

"Hi." He says, awkward, bag an uncomfortable weight on his left shoulder.

"Oh, hello. I'm glad you made it." Jaejoong smiles, ushers him in and makes him sit on the couch before disappearing inside the last door down the hallway.

Changmin fiddles with the strap hanging off his cell phone, considers starting another match of that stupid game with the snake. A loud bang startles him into looking up. "Hyung?"

"Just a sec!" Jaejoong's voice comes, muffled, and then another loud bang. When the door opens again, Changmin is halfway down the hallway and Jaejoong's face is flushed pink. "Sorry, I thought you were only coming by later - actually, come here." He goes, and is faced with two metal boxes thrown on the floor and a stair poking into the inside of a closet. "Can you grab the pillow in there? It seems that my arms are too short." Jaejoong doesn't look fazed, but there's a line to his mouth that transmits frustration.

"Sure." Changmin straightens the stair and climbs it, looking inside the dark cupboard. He finds the pillow easily, and hugs it to his chest when he comes down. Jaejoong is looking at him, expression intent, and it makes something inside of him shift. "That's all?"

Jaejoong continues staring for some time more before blinking. "Yeah."

\--

Changmin spreads some of his homework on the table and tries to immerse himself into it. It's weird, at first, trying to work around the sound of Jaejoong walking around the house, and it feels wrong to do that - he'd been invited to keep company, not do his homework. But Jaejoong had waved his concern away and said something about Changmin being able to do nothing with him later and yeah, that actually sounded like a good idea.

Jaejoong joins him at the table after a while, sliding a mug of coffee over to Changmin and sipping on his as he writes on his own pile of paper. It's comforting, somehow, and soon Jaejoong is rising to refill their mugs, coming back with cookies that Changmin barely thanks him for before continuing to calculate.

\--

"Are you almost done?" Jaejoong asks, and Changmin looks up to find him with his head thrown back, muscles bulging as he stretches his arms upwards.

"Five more minutes"

"I'll call for dinner then." Jaejoong picks their mugs and the empty plate of cookies before standing up. "Pizza?"

"Pepperoni."

\--

They eat in front of the tv, watching a reality show with korean idols that stumble through wince-worthy japanese for half the time and spend the other half smiling and trying not to look stupid.

"But they do." Changmin says, bringing his knee up and resting his chin on it. "Should at least know japanese before trying to sing it."

Jaejoong hums, slides down a bit on the couch. "Well, it's pop. They're good as long as they can dance marginally well and look pretty."

Changmin looks at him then, instead of sneaking glances between the commercial breaks. Looks at his bleached hair, at the piercings on his ear, at the slope of his nose, at the way his hoodie falls on his small waist. "Could've been you."

"Oh yeah?" Jaejoong turns his head, cheeks raised in amusement. "I'm not so sure."

"You look good enough. And you can sing - that has to be a bonus. You would probably do way better than them, at least." Changmin jerks his head in the direction of the television but doesn't take his eyes off Jaejoong's.

"Don't really think they'd want someone with tattoos and piercings." His voice is lower, now, rougher, and the noise coming from the television fades from Changmin's perception.

"Everyone has their ears pierced, nowadays." He answers, and his voice is low, too, somehow.

"Not talking about them." Jaejoong's cheeks are smoothed down, again, and one of his hands comes to the hem of his shirt, bunches it inside his fist before he pushes it up. There's a piercing glinting on his bellybutton, and Changmin can already feel his cheeks heat even before Jaejoong's pectorals are exposed and he's able to see the metal shining on Jaejoong's left nipple.

"Oh."

"Wanna touch?" Jaejoong's fingers spread themselves around his nipple, and his other hand reaches for Changmin.

"I don't think-" His hand twitches when Jaejoong's closes around his forearm, but then he's being pulled forward and for some reason, he goes. Jaejoong's skin is warm, soft, and when his fingers flex instinctively on contact, nails lightly scratching, Jaejoong's pierced nipple pebbles; it brings a noise out of both of them, and then he's arranging himself onto his knees beside Jaejoong, and one of his fingers is travelling down, nail catching on the raised nipple before he pinches the piercing between his thumb and forefinger. "I shouldn't." He raises his face but keeps his eyes on his hands, on the twist of Jaejoong's skin as he smoothes the nipple down.

"It's okay." Jaejoong squeezes his forearm before letting go, hands sliding from his arms to his waist and under his shirt, curling around his ribs. He digs his fingers in, making Changmin gasp, and then he's pushing Changmin forward, into his lap, thighs spread and framing his own. "Changmin."

He inhales, shuddery, and then looks up into Jaejoong's dark eyes.

"What?" His other hand comes to rest on Jaejoong's chest, thumb settling on the slight dip between pectorals.

Jaejoong hums, and wets his lips before diving forward, mouth firm against Changmin's, hands gripping tight until Changmin exhales and opens his mouth, letting him lick his way inside, trying to catch Jaejoong's bottom lip between his teeth and instead sucking on his tongue.

Jaejoong's thighs shift beneath him, and then they're sliding down, one of Changmin's hands going to brace him on the back of the couch, the other settling on Jaejoong's shoulder.

"This is okay?" Jaejoong asks, moving away from Changmin's mouth and licking his red lips.

"No." He says, because it's not- it's wrong, it's what make boys try to beat the gay out of each other, it's what he's not supposed to want. "No, it's not." But he's back at kissing Jaejoong, electricity running up his calves and buzzing on the tips of his fingers.

\--

Jaejoong insists on them sharing a bed. Changmin stutters and hides behind a blush, feeling ridiculous and pathetic, but then they're brushing their teeth and Jaejoong is smiling, spreading toothpaste on his cheek and shrieking when Changmin growls at him- and then they're on the bed, and Changmin is laughing as Jaejoong presses him to the bed by his shoulders and kisses him breathless.

They pull their shirts off and their hands map skin until they're kissing slowly, tired, laying on their sides and Jaejoong hums a tune before sighing and pressing a last kiss to Changmin's cheek, nuzzles his way into the curve of Changmin's shoulder and falls asleep like that, their legs tangled and Changmin's heart beating faster than ever before.

\--

He leaves with the taste of Jaejoong still lingering, coffee and sweetness and the lines around Jaejoong's eyes replaying behind his eyelids as drags a hand through his mussed hair as he stares at his reflection on the subway train, feeling strangely comfortable with the purple dots spread over his neck and collarbones, somewhat proud of the way they stand against his skin. He has his earphones on but no music playing, and it scares him a bit, how little he recognizes of himself as he looks at the curve of his cheekbones, the angles of his shoulders.

(When he gets home, his flatmate is sitting in front of the couch, notebook on the floor and back curved as he scratches words in it.

"Hi." The older says, not looking up, and Changmin responds with a timid 'hello' before scurrying into his room. It feels weird, the sudden emptiness in his mouth, and he tries to distract himself with his laptop until he realizes that he's chewing the wire of his earphones)

\--

"Hello" Jaejoong says, sitting beside him. Changmin swallows the liquid in his spoon quickly and winces as the hotness spreads on the sensitive tissue of his throat.

"Hyung." He says, taking a huge gulp from his bottle of water.

"Having a good day?" Jaejoong opens a can of beer, the expensive kind.

"Yeah, you?" He goes back to his soup but frowns.

"That's good. My day has been going fine, thank you." Jaejoong smiles, small, and starts unwrapping his sandwich.

"Hyung?" He asks, uncertain. Like he's fourteen all over again, weak and insecure - he has to remind himself he's not. He's sixteen, and more mature than most of his hyungs. He's in Japan.

"Mmm." Jaejoong takes a bite and covers his mouth with his hand.

"What's your major?"

Jaejoong sets his sandwich down and turns to him, one of his legs folding on the bench. "Why?"

"... Because you were the one to show me around? And I know nothing about you." He wants to add to that, about how they're something more, now, but it seems like such a stupid thing to do.

"Music, of course." Jaejoong takes a swig of his beer. "You're under engineering, right?"

He nods, and frowns at his spoon. "Where do you work?"

Jaejoong turns to him completely, then, and his hands come to rest in the space of wood between them. "What's this, Changmin?"

"What's what?" He shoves another spoonful in his mouth and fuck, he forgot that it was still hot.

"This. All these questions."

"We kissed." He whispers, and then promptly bites his own tongue. Not supposed to say that, stupid.

Jaejoong blinks at him and then turns - takes his beer and drops his sandwich on Changmin's empty rice bowl. Changmin knows his mouth is open, and he's about to ask when Jaejoong rolls his eyes and gives a light punch on his shoulder.

"Sometimes I forget you're sixteen."

"Wha-"

"We'll talk later, dongsaeng." He says, lie clear on the lines of his forehead, and with that he's gone.

Changmin clenches his jaw, presses his tongue against the sharp of his teeth and tries to hold back tears of humiliation as he goes back to his food, the noise of students not enough to drown the way Jaejoong's words resound sharp and disappointed inside his head.

\--

He spends the next month buried in assignments, going as far as hanging out with his flatmate's friends when invited. It feels empty, and cold, and mostly he just feels miserably angry, because his other friends won't talk to him anymore since that night he fucked up with Jaejoong and, well, now Jaejoong isn't talking to him either. Or he's not talking to Jaejoong - or they're not talking to each other.

It's all very confusing and irritating until one day he's trying to find a book about Dadaism and a chuckle interrupts him from cursing at the stupid japanese librarian.

"What are you looking for?" Yunho asks, and he seems friendly enough, hands lazily hanging from the pockets of his beige pants. He's wearing a dark green shirt and has a cut running down from just under his left eye.

"Dadaism."

"You're looking for Dadaism? In a library?" Yunho has the starts of a smile growing on his face, and on anyone else it would seem mocking. On him, it just looks like amusement, and maybe a bit of entertainment.

"A book about it." He sighs and stands up, patting the knees of his jeans.

"You're in the wrong section." Yunho starts walking and Changmin goes after him, watching Yunho easily navigate the mess of shelves from the library before indicating one of them with his hands. "Everything art from 1900-forwards should be here."

"Thanks." He says, and starts scanning the books, sighing a bit when he notices that all the titles are in kanji.

"I thought you were studying engineering?"

"Yeah, but I thought it'd be nice to study some of the newest art going around." He cranes his neck to look at the top shelf and- there. He gets the book, a black volume ripped at the seams and almost falling apart. "You don't seem like the art type yourself."

"I'm not." Yunho leans away from the shelf and follows Changmin back to the table where he had left his things. "But one of my girl friends is pretty enthusiastic at it. I'm studying law." He shrugs his shoulders and takes a seat without asking. Changmin wants to be annoyed but Yunho had helped him, and so far seems pretty okay with sharing information. "It's nice." And when Changmin looks at him- "That you wanted to try art, too."

"Interesting, at least." He grumbles, and starts taking out the supplies he'll need in order to make a resume from his bag.

Yunho lets him, taking his own cell phone to entertain himself, and Changmin already has a good dent in trying to decipher some new terms in japanese that describe the world war - who would've known - when Yunho sets the phone down and starts staring. Changmin does his best to sigh inaudibly and finishes a messy paragraph without looking up.

"Yes?"

"You and Jae."

"There's nothing going on." He says, suddenly reminded of the way Yunho had been draped all over Jaejoong, long limbs all thrown over the other, face relaxed in sleep.

"Look, I'm not going to rat you out, so you can talk to me." Yunho moves his shoulders, moves his chair back. "I'm worried."

"About?"

"You two." Yunho goes back to fiddling with his phone.

"We're not friends." Changmin says, and it's cruel, but also the truth.

"We could be." Yunho has a smile on his face, something small and fragile, lined by the lines on his cheeks, the way skin gathers on the corner of his eyes. He starts to say something else but Changmin interrupts him in surprise;

"How old are you?"

"... Twenty-six." His smile falters. "Like Jae."

Changmin blinks at him, and feels as if all the blood in body has vanished.

"Oh my god." He says, before he can stop himself. He can't- this. "I. I didn't- I thought. I don't know what I thought, but." He can't look up from the shift of Yunho's collarbones. "Oh my god."

"I thought you knew." Yunho sucks in a breath and Changmin can hear how shaky it is, how filled with dread and confusion it is - he imagines it to be something like his own, except that he's not breathing, and his own would be so much more terrible. "Changmin, I'm sorry-"

"I have to go." He says, and runs away from Yunho and the library and the thought of twenty-six and ten years and he can't do this, he just. He can't.

\--

Changmin walks home, trying to calm himself, and knocks on the door until his flatmate opens it with a disgruntled expression. He spends the next thirty minutes freaking out on his room, alone, light turned off, and then another ten cursing himself because he just left all his stuff at the library and he's pretty sure Yunho doesn't know where he lives.


	4. and I want to run / like the blood from a wound / to a place you can't see me

**i need yunho's number** he sends, after typing innumerable variables.

**why?**

He doesn't answer, thinking of twenty-six, sixteen, twenty-six. He'd been assuming Jaejoong to be nineteen, twenty-two at most. Three years is okay. Six years is... Not okay, but fine for friends. But ten is not - ten years is enough for him to tower over his classmates, to actually begin to lie to his parents, to start typing things on his parent's computer.

He stops at the entrance to his building and breathes deep. Turns away and walks to the convenience store in a daze, earphones hanging from his neck. Spends long minutes staring at the merchandise on display, and the lady at the register frowns at him when he goes to pay for his gum, but he shakes his head and she leaves him be. He aches for his mother, maybe even for the soft of his little sister as she tries to wriggle away from his hugs, complaining loudly about him being weird.

He wants to be home and he hates Japan, he absolutely loathes it- but his education is here, scholarship and high honors, homework a pile on his desk, tests tainting his calendar. He gets home and throws himself on the armchair that has seen better days, and dozes off while wondering if his flatmate is home.

\--

He blinks awake with the buzz of the doorbell, and curses as he drags himself up and to the door. He opens it without looking and is faced with Jaejoong, hair darker than before, Changmin's school bag hanging from one of his hands.

"You're twenty-six." He says, by way of greeting.

"And you're sixteen." Jaejoong says, eyebrows arching, as if it's nothing. As if that's not exactly the issue, here.

"Thanks for the bag." He says, reaching for it, but Jaejoong pulls it back. "Hyung." He grits, and fuck. Yeah, hyung. Ten years older. Shit.

"Let me in."

"I don't want to-"

"Fucking let me in, Changmin."

He lets off a sound of anger and does just so, stepping back but barely. Jaejoong scoffs and knocks their shoulders hard when he passes, brushing his body against Changmin's, stopping in the middle of the living room and turning to him.

"Fuck you." He says, banging the door shut and then locking it. "You could have told me-"

"And then what?"

"And you shouldn't have- we." He raises his hands and moves them in distress. "Kissed, or. Slept together. Or." He makes a sound that isn't exactly korean, or anything else.

"It's not like it's illegal." Jaejoong rolls his eyes and drops the bag to the ground, crosses his arms. "Or like I fucked you, whatever."

"It's wrong-" Changmin can't stand looking at Jaejoong's eyes so he looks at his hands, the way he taps his fingers against his forearms.

"Is it? But we haven't done anything. It's not like we're dating, despite what you might think. It's all just good fun." His fingers stop moving. "Unless you want to."

"I can't date you-"

"Oh but you want to, don't you?" Jaejoong's voice goes from sarcastic to monotone, and that scares Changmin more than anything else. "Don't you, Changminnie? Don't you want to fuck hyung, hm? To spread me open, come inside?" He walks forward, stops a few feet away from Changmin. "I'd even let you."

"Are you messing with me? Is this your idea of fun because-" And he stops short because Jaejoong is pulling him down, crashing their mouths together, biting his lips until he kisses back and he does, fuck, he missed Jaejoong's mouth, that weird taste of him, the way Jaejoong's hands feels on him, pressing on his nape and then clutching at his shoulders.

"Come on." Jaejoong says, breaking the kiss apart and still holding on to Changmin.

"What?" He asks, dazed, leaning back to another kiss, still angry, still desperate.

"Your room, show me your room." He says, fingers coming up to press at his lips, nail catching on the sharp of his teeth.

Changmin shoves his face into Jaejoong's, kisses him again, hard, and then pushes him into his room, kicks the door shut. "You're a fucking bastard." He says, but Jaejoong is back at kissing him breathless, sucking on his tongue and then biting his lips, his jaw, his collarbones. "Stop marking me-"

"Stop talking." Jaejoong snarls, nose crushed on Changmin's cheekbone, biting at the corner of his mouth, pressing the flat of his palm against Changmin's shoulder and pushing it into the wall, hard, and fuck it hurts.

"You're the one talking." He says, going in for another kiss, through the pain, wrapping Jaejoong's hair between his fingers and pulling, pressing his hips up when Jaejoong gasps, moaning and sinking his nails into Jaejoong's scalp as Jaejoong presses his hips right back.

"I'm allowed to." Jaejoong has Changmin pinned to the wall by the shoulders, now, and it's crazy because he's shorter, is crazy because he's twenty-six and this is wrong, crazy because of how much Changmin wants it, needs it- and Jaejoong presses his hips up again, wraps a hand around Changmin's thigh, starts to pressure it forward but Changmin panics because fuck this is wrong, and he kicks, angry again, kicks again, terrified, shoves Jaejoong away with scrambling hands on his chest, he can't breathe, and kicks kicks kicks - "Shit." Jaejoong winces and lets him go, steps back. "Fucking shit-"

"Fuck, I'm sorry, hyung-"

"Shut up". Jaejoong looks like a mess, hair standing in all directions and red marks starting to appear on what's visible of his chest through the deep v-neck of his shirt. "Shut up and calm down."

"Hyung-" He says, and he's wheezing, tears hot where they gather on his eyes, hands shaking when he tries to wipe his tears away and breathes in mucus, so pathetic, so painfully sixteen and useless, and-

"Calm down!" Jaejoong strides forward and pulls Changmin to him, walks them back a few steps and grabs the sides of Changmin's face, forcing their eyes to meet.

"I'm sorry." He says, one hand covering his mouth and the other hovering uselessly against the side of Jaejoong's face. "I shouldn't- I."

"It's okay."

"I panicked, I-"

"Changmin." He's annoyed, now, lips curled back to show his teeth.

"I'm so sorry." He chokes, curling down, fingers spreading to cover his eyes. "I'm sorry-"

"I said it's okay. It's not like I'm sixteen-" Jaejoong says, angry, bitter, and it makes him stop, makes him freeze.

"Sorry..." He says, deflating, hand twitching on his face.

"It's okay." Jaejoong pushes Changmin away by the shoulder, pinches the skin of his inner arm when the younger boy doesn't move. "Changmin."

"I'm sorry." He says again, stepping back.

"Only going to be purple for a few days." Jaejoong bends down to pokes at the bruise that's starting to form, at the bluish bump that makes Changmin wince in sympathy, shame, guilt. Jaejoong doesn't, though, just pokes at the edges of it one more time before running his hand flat over the area and straightening up. "I don't mind a little pain."

Changmin doesn't know what to say to that, so he turns to the door, takes a deep breath to collect himself. Wipes his face again, thinks of the contents of the fridge he shares with his flatmate. "I can get you something to put on? Don't think we have a pack of ice, but maybe frozen something?"

"Do you, Changmin?" But Jaejoong is already sitting back down on Changmin's bed, shoulders settling on his propped up pillow.

"What?"

"Mind being in pain?"

He furrows his brows, partially anticipating a lecture, or a guilt-trip. "No one likes being in pain."

"Mm, is that so?" Jaejoong crosses his legs, pushes the fabric covering his left ankle up. Meets Changmin's eyes as he presses his elbow right at the bruise. "How can you know if you never try?" His voice is at that low tone again, the one that indicates trouble - Changmin wants to erase it from memory, wants to go back to a time where all he knew from Jaejoong were too-bright smiles and shining eyes.

"I've been hurt before."

"But have you been hurt the right way?"

"No." He says, because he can't say that there's no right way - there's no opening for that in Jaejoong, no option of seeing things in black and white, right or wrong. With Jaejoong, it's as if he's always toeing right on the edge of things, the edges of his own limits. He wishes it was more disconcerting than it is exciting, but it's not - it's enrapturing, and consuming in a way that leaves him breathless, guilty as he spends shower after night after shower after morning choking back on Jaejoong's name as he comes, alone, sweat gathering on the sides of his face and the insides of his knees. Jaejoong seems to be responsible for most of the guilt he feels, too.

"Come here, Changmin-ah." It's not a question, or as much of a question as the one Jaejoong pretends to throw at him - there's always a little bit too much of order in them, too much of knowing and teasing.

"Hyung, we shouldn't."

He goes, though, feeling like a moth, ready to be set alight, devoured. And Jaejoong does that, bringing him closer by hands on his jaw and nuzzling his chin, nipping his lower lip, licking his way inside Changmin's mouth. Jaejoong raises himself to his knees in order to bring them closer to each other, chest pressing to Changmin's upper stomach, hands falling to his shoulders and pulling him until he's kneeling on the bed too, thighs shaking from the awkward angle, and he pulls away to breathe, to find himself again, but then Jaejoong is pushing a thigh between his, making Changmin sit on him, and he feels so hot at the way Jaejoong just takes it, not caring about weight, just-

"Stop thinking so much." And Changmin swallows back his worries and allows Jaejoong to kiss him again, allows Jaejoong to pinch the skin at his nape, allows himself to flinch at the pain and gasp inside Jaejoong's mouth, allows himself the liberty of rocking his hips into the warmth and pressure of Jaejoong's hands at the zipper in his jeans and he's so hot, he's burning-

"Hyung." He says, pleads, begs- and comes in his jeans as Jaejoong gives a particular rough squeeze while the nails from his other hand draw blood from him.

\--

Jaejoong goes away after that, gives him an indulgent peck before muttering something about being late for work and having class next morning. He stays in his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think.

But Jaejoong is still twenty-six and he's still sixteen.

\--

He finishes his essay on dadasim and hands it in at the end of the week, smile on his face as the teacher raises an eyebrow at his title.

 **you never gave me yunho's number** he sends, walking down the stairs.

 **are you still on campus?** just as he's putting his phone in his pocket.

 **yeah.** he turns right at the end of the stairs and leans against the wall. **why?**

**dinner together at 7? i have class until 6.**

He rolls his shoulders, looks at the time on his phone - 5:05, thinks of the homework assigned at his algebra class, thinks of how Jaejoong is twenty-six.

 **sure** he says, and heads to the library.

\--

Jaejoong calls him when his class ends, and they meet outside of Changmin's building. The sky is dark with rain, and Jaejoong opens his umbrella, inviting Changmin under it with a twist of his wrist.

"Chinese?" The older man asks, nudging Changmin with his shoulder until he starts walking.

"Wanted to eat korean." He says, looking at the ground. There's sweat gathering at the back of his neck, already, with how the air is still warm despite the rain.

Jaejoong hums, stops walking at the gate that separates the university from the street. "Let's go to my home, then. I can make something."

Changmin looks at him, at the way Jaejoong is staring right back, face relaxed and open.

"Sure." He says, and Jaejoong smiles before continuing to walk.

They sit together on the bus, thighs touching, and at some point Jaejoong hooks their ankles together. Changmin tries not blush at that, fails, turns to look out the window and stumbles behind Jaejoong once they get there, running not to get wet.

There's music echoing inside the apartment once Jaejoong opens the door, beat heavy and words running together in english muffled by a closed door.

"Yunho likes to dance." The older says, leaving his shoes by the door and bag on the couch before going to the kitchen. Changmin sighs, arranges both their shoes on the rack before putting his bag beside the door and following Jaejoong, finding him drying his hands. "He told me he has plans so he won't bother us much."

"I don't-"

"But it's better if we're alone, right?" Jaejoong smiles, no trace of malice, and Changmin is unable to do anything but smile back.

\--

Changmin doesn't realize that the music had stopped until Yunho comes out of his room, dressed in a dark blue sweater and dark grey jeans, and he makes Changmin swallow back his reply to Jaejoong's teasing remark about his grades and instead gape at Yunho.

"What happened to your face?" He asks, unable to stop himself, and Yunho takes a step back.

"He fell." Jaejoong says, and Changmin turns back to look at him, at his blank expression.

"But-"

"I'm okay." Yunho laughs, voice high, and comes to clasp Changmin on the back of his neck. From up close, Changmin can see the cuts shaped like nails on the high of his cheekbone, and the bruises hiding underneath the high collar of his sweater. "So Joongie decided to lure you in with food, mm?"

Changmin's protest is cut off by Jaejoong; "I hope it works." He turns to look at the older man and finds a smile, small and flirtatious.

"Have fun." Yunho says, hand warm where it squeezes Changmin's neck, and then he's by the door, slipping on a pair of lace-free shoes before waving and closing the door.

"What really happened?" He asks, and regrets it when Jaejoong's smile falls.

"Do you really want to talk about Yunho?" Jaejoong puts his chopsticks down, levels him with a cold gaze. "Because we can, if you're interested. We can talk about Yunho's face, and his life, and what he likes, and how he tastes-"

"Hyung." He interrupts, shocked and hurt.

"And how he screams when he comes." Jaejoong finishes, resting his cheek on his closed fist. "If it's him you're interested in."

"No, hyung, I-" He starts, trying to fumble his way through the imagined skin of Yunho's chest, of how it'd look against Jaejoong's pale skin, of how they would sound together, how Jaejoong would writhe and arch and beg beneath Yunho's big hands and strong thighs. "Wait. Have you..?"

"We have." Jaejoong blinks but doesn't move.

"Yunho." He puts his own chopsticks down, and frowns at the pork floating in his kimchi jjigae. "Yunho told me he wasn't..."

"He made an exception for me." Jaejoong licks his lips, angles his head in a way that makes the stretch of his neck visible. "I have you, now." And it sounds like possession - Changmin bites his own tongue until Jaejoong's other hand reaches out and rests in front of his, Jaejoong's palm up, white, and a sharp contrast to the shaking of Changmin's tanned hand.

"Didn't think you'd want me." He stretches his fingers and his nails scratch the tip of Jaejoong's fingers.

"Oh, but I do."


	5. sometimes it's like chains (sometimes i hang my head in shame / when people see me)

They meet again, after that. Spring rolls by, and Changmin finds himself huddling close to Jaejoong as the seasons start to change again, finds himself letting Jaejoong nose at the hollow of his throat and suck the skin there until it leaves a mark, pink that he knows will turn red then purple then blue then green and yellow and nothing.

He forgets to call his family one week and doesn't turn in an assignment the next. It doesn't bother him as much as it would, in any other circumstances - but there's Jaejoong, and the time spent with him feels more precious than minutes spent with a mom that he has known for years or with a class that he doesn't really care about, anyway. And it's not like he doesn't know that this is unlike him, but Jaejoong feels new and good, really good, specially when they're pressed so closed against each other that there's nothing else in his mind but the need to touch and give and take.

\--

"Can I?" Jaejoong asks, lips barely touching the tip of his dick.

"What?" He asks, voice breathy, trying to stare at the ceiling. Trying not to embarrass himself, but he's sixteen. 

Jaejoong hums, opens his mouth and breathes hot over his sensitive skin. "You know what."

"I don't-" His next inhale is interrupted by a moan as Jaejoong sucks, just a bit. 

"Or maybe." Jaejoong's lips leave him, and the other's nose presses against the inside of his thigh, tickling the hair there. 

"Maybe?" Changmin asks, pressing his own hips down with sweaty hands. 

"Maybe you want to fuck me?" Jaejoong folds himself into a kneeling position, and Changmin feels his cheeks heat as he takes in the whole of him, pierced nipple and -

"Oh." Changmin raises himself on shaking elbows, and shuffles down so that one of his fingernails catch on the piercing shining inside Jaejoong's bellybutton. 

"That's not an answer." Jaejoong grins but moves closer, straddling Changmin's long and skinny thighs. 

"I mean..." Changmin closes his eyes and when he opens them, the grin is still lighting Jaejoong's face, slipping into a smile as he blushes harder. "Yes. I do. Want to, I mean-"

"Okay." Jaejoong leans in to kiss him, unhurried, as good as always. They're in his room, Yunho out for the night, window open to let the remnant's of spring air in. They kiss, sharing air, until Changmin is pulling away and pushing his head back on the pillow, gasping for air, heart thundering, erection insistent. "Do you want me to shower?" Jaejoong asks, already drawing back, standing up unashamed, sun bathing his skin and making it paler.

"No." He furrows his brows, thinks of his shirt lying innocently on the ground, of how it had stuck to his skin with the stickiness of his own sweat. "Should I?"

Jaejoong shakes his head, opens his closet. His back is muscled, a tattoo spread between his shoulder-blades, thighs skinny and calves skinnier. He comes back to the bed with a half-used bottle of lube, a new smile on his face when he lies beside Changmin and opens his legs. "I'm going to ride you" He says, when Changmin turns to him, lips brushing together, breaths mingling. Changmin rests his cheek on Jaejoong's shoulder and looks down, to where Jaejoong is raising his thighs and his hands are disappearing between them, bypassing his cock to go lower. 

"You will?" He asks, breathless, and Jaejoong huffs against his forehead.

"Yeah, silly." He laughs, and raises his hips. Changmin swallows, puts his own legs under him and readjusts, eyes glued to where Jaejoong's fingers disappear. "You'll like it." He promises, reaching with his free hand to slick Changmin's erection.

\--

It's his first time. He's young and fumbling and Jaejoong - he takes care of him. It's not fucking because Jaejoong smiles, eases himself down slow, whispers compliments into Changmin's ears even as one of his hands closes around the base of Changmin's erection and keeps his orgasm away.

"Changminnie" He says, lips stretched full on a smile, belly-button piercing glinting in the dark. "Changminnie, you feel so good." Leaning forward, resting his hands on Changmin's shoulders and rolling his hips down, taking all of Changmin. A vixen, a whore, a god. Fuck, he looks good, skin almost glowing, all pliant and experienced.

"Ye-yeah, hyung. You feel- feel-" And he can't breathe, can't do more than gasp as Jaejoong licks up his throat, bites his jaw, bites and sucks on the flesh of his cheeks. He should have known, then, but at the time he'd only thought of it as insanely hot. He hadn't thought of the day after, of the purple blotch that would take shape, of the way people would frown at it, of how it'd hurt to chew, to talk, to smile.

"Come for me, Changminnie" Jaejoong says, face moving away and to the curve of Changmin's neck, chin pressing into the sharp of his shoulder. "Come in me."

And he does like it. Likes it enough that he doesn't notice the bite on his cheek until he's making breakfast at his own kitchen the next day, and his roommate gasps with horror when he sees it.

\--

"What's up with the boxes?" He asks, pressing his little toes to the wood floor. It's a week later, and the mark on his cheek has raised down to a sickening yellow. There are more, though, forming constellations up his chest, purpling his thighs. His roommate looks up at the question, bends down to arrange something inside one of the mentioned boxes before righting himself and shaking dirt out of his hands.

"I'm moving out."

Changmin stares at him, then looks down at his bowl of ramen, at the homework spread on the rest of the table, the pen abandoned between his textbook and his glass of juice. 

"I can't afford the rent" He says, because he hasn't got a job, doesn't really have the time to, not with his assignments and Jaejoong and the minimum amount of sleep he's allowed with the way his schedule runs.

The other sighs, hands him a paper with an email address written. "This korean guy was looking for someone to room with - he's in one of my friend's classes, friendly."

"But why are you moving out?" Changmin puts the paper down, presses the sole of his feet to the legs of his chair.

"Well." A shrug of narrow shoulders, hands scratching the back of a short neck. "Just.... You know. You're okay, but... People talk."

"People talk." He repeats, and the meaning of it unfurls inside of him like ice spreading through his veins, freezing knots in his throat. "You..."

"Look, I'm sorry." His roomate says, not looking sorry at all. "But that guy... And I'm not like that. I don't want people to think I'm like that."

"Fuck you." He says, cold fury mixing with dread.

"The korean guy is okay with it." His roommate gives him a final unreadable look before leaving for his room.

\--

The "Korean Guy" turns out to be Kim Junho, broad shouldered and gentle-tempered, korean accented but easy to understand after a week of half-formed conversations. It's good to share the house with him, to be able to blast korean songs and hear the other humming along. 

"I have a boyfriend. He's coming over tonight." Changmin says, the second weekend spent with Junho in the house, back tense, leaning on the door-frame to Junho's room. "I was told you didn't mind... Me. People like me."

"Your sins aren't my responsibility." Junho says, shrugging, eyebrows raising as he closes a fist over the crucifix dangling from his necklace. "Do you want me to go out? I wanted to finish my paper tonight, but I guess I can crash somewhere else if you think I'm going to bother you." He looks down at his laptop and then back to Changmin, honesty clear on his tanned face. 

"No, it's fine."

"Okay then." Junho goes back to typing and Changmin breathes easier, texts Jaejoong an **is 19:00 okay?** and smiles when he gets a **sure!!!** and smiley emojis back.

\--

"We're having a gig tomorrow." Jaejoong says, when Changmin slips out of him and rolls to lay beside him, sheets sticking to his sweaty chest. 

"That's nice." He replies, voice muffled by his pillow.

"I'm singing one of my favorite songs." Jaejoong's hand settle on the small of Changmin's back, nails digging into the skin. "I want you to learn it." 

"What song?"

Jaejoong smile is small when Changmin turns to him, squints his eyes to see the play of light against skin. Jaejoong looks young, inviting, harmless. His lips are soft when he moves closer to Changmin and presses them to the curve of Changmin's shoulder, singing in accented english that runs up his spine and makes him shiver.

Jaejoong goes home smelling of Changmin's bodywash, smiling at Junho when the other comments on his still wet hair. Everything is okay, Changmin thinks, towel hanging off his bare shoulders, searching for clean clothes, a nice jacket. 

There's still a few hours to go before he has to leave, so he sits in his desk, laptop open, spends a few hours going through homework that he only understands half of, chews on the tip of his pencil until there's a ding from his computer signalizing a new email. He slides his finger through the touch pad to wake his screen and blinks at the email, a ' _all this time and not even a single call to hyung_ ', followed by a ' _don't forget to add the +81 first_ ' and then he smiles, takes his phone and presses the digits blinking at him from the screen;

"Hi, Dongwook-hyung?"

\--

He tells Dongwook that Jaejoong is twenty-five but it's stupid, one year won't change a thing but ten, ten sounds like a curse, ten sounds like a sentence and he can't take it-

His alarm startles him into breathing again, changing into the clothes he'd left on the bed and leaving home with his heart hammering against his ribcage, breath brutalizing the back of his throat. 

The club where Jaejoong and his band are playing is well lit and decorated in deep purples, people inside smiling around their cigarettes, boys leaving black lipstick marks and girls leaving the sound of their chains shadow their movements; background music a smash of violins and japanese being screamed violently through the expensive speakers. Not a place that he would've expected to find that public in, people that he would have avoided if not for how he's changed, since meeting Jaejoong, how he can see things in a wider perspective and now he can only think of them with a dismissive lack of interest; he's here for Jaejoong, to hear him sing, to lose himself in the rough of Jaejoong's voice and then he's asking the bartender for some soda and leaning back against the wall closer to the stage. 

Changmin tries to shake off his bad mood, swallow it back with cherry cola; speaks to a tiny girl in very high platform boots that make the top of her head almost reach his shoulder and bleached eyebrows, smiles with lips closed when she comments in a high-pitched voice about how much she adores the main attraction tonight. A few other girls join them, one with a blood-red and mid-tight lace dress, another with her electric blue hair in pigtails, a last with clothes that make her look like a crow against the startling-white of her boyfriend's clothes, the lips of said boy glittering with piercings. They all hush when someone steps onstage and soon Changmin is wincing at the screams of the crowd, pressing his shoulders back against the wall and raising his empty glass out of the way of pointy elbows and flailing hands. 

Jaejoong comes onstage and he looks... He looks dangerous and luscious as he synchronizes leaning into the mic and licking his lips, voice coming a beat later, singing of possessing and taking, taking, taking until there's nothing left.


	6. paralysed (you see through my disguise)

"My classes end next week" Changmin sighs, stretching down to scratch his ankle. Beside him, Jaejoong is sprawled on the couch and slowly sipping through his second bottle of beer. His skin is shiny with dried sweat, probably sticky and all Changmin wants to do is lick it clean. The windows are open in pretence of letting the cool air in but instead it's just pushing hot air inside. 

"Are you staying?" One of Jaejoong's hands sneaks up where his shirt rode up, nails catching slightly and fabric bunching up as he scratches his way to Changmin's shoulderblades.

"Yeah" He says, giving in, muscles relaxing and chest meeting thigh, his chin awkwardly pressing against his knee. 

His mood had taken a strangely aggressive turn lately, and being with Jaejoong mellows it out. Changmin finds himself restless and rude whenever he spends too much time on his own, going so far as to cuss strangers in korean, shoving people out of his way on crowds. 

Jaejoong's hand trails a slow path down his spine, and his thumb finds place on the crack of Changmin's ass, nail digging in and making him tense just as Jaejoong murmurs a "Good." back at him. 

\--

"And come September we'll have make up classes and-" The teacher looks up at this, eyeing a few students at the back of the classroom and then raising her eyebrows at Changmin, who is trying his best to stay awake. "Exams. Have a good summer." And with this she turns back, leaning on her desk as the students start to leave, some pausing to quickly trade words with her before chatting animately as they leave.

Changmin stands listlessly, gathers his books slowly and blinks purposefully at the floor in search of anything he might have missed. Mumbles a 'bye' to the few classmates who still bother talking to him.

"Shim Changmin, yes? -Ssi, in korea?" The teacher asks, when he's passing through her.

"Yes." Changmin looks up, stops moving, blinks hard, waits until he can see her clearly before speaking again "Something wrong, teacher?"

"Your grades dropped." She reaches for a paper and holds it with both hands for him to see. He furrows his eyebrows and hides a yawn behind his hand. "Exponentially."

"I'll work hard on the make up exams." He shrugs, tries not to twitch when his phone buzzes in his pocket, fails.

"And I suggest you take the classes, too." Her japanese roughens out for a bit and he remembers her being vietnamese, chinese, whatever. 

"Can I go now?" Ruder than he meant it to be but honest, all the same.

The teacher narrows her eyes but nods. 

\--

"Haven't seen Yunho in a while." Changmin comments, plugging the fan in and sitting back as it starts to rotate silently, wind pushing hair back from his face and making him sigh. 

Jaejoong hums non-committally from the couch, legs spread wide and a hand fiddling with the tv's remote. "He's been busy." 

"Classes are over." Changmin lowers himself to the ground, the wind from the fan making his shirt billow for some seconds before he takes it off, legs bent as he tries not to kick the fan away. 

"What he does with his free time is really none of your business." 

"And it is yours?" Not really wanting to pick a fight but also not avoiding one. Tired of being treated like a stupid teenager, even miles away from home.

"What is it with you and Yunho?" Jaejoong is now standing over him, hands on his pant's pocket. Backlit by the television, by the sundown, by whatever it is that makes him think of himself as superior.

"He's nice." Changmin sits up, keeps his hands to himself even as he has to fight the impulse to hit the back of Jaejoong's knees and make him fall, get him to eye-level. "And you never fucking answer-"

"He's not _yours_." Jaejoong sneers and before Changmin can react, there's a shin hitting his elbow and making his arm buckle, a foot putting pressure in his other shoulder until he falls. He's too stunned to react, even when he can, Jaejoong's heel is putting pressure right over his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

\--

Changmin finds himself alone, staring at the ceiling, mind blank. It's an endless amount of time later and Jaejoong left when the world outside was still painting itself red, orange, yellow, tired. His lungs are heavy with anger and hands trembling with how he always manages to fuck things up.

He waits until his phone starts beeping before getting up and getting ready for bed, burying his face on Jaejoong's pillow because he was stupid enough to miss the last train.

\--

Changmin wakes when Jaejoong slips into bed with him, turns to see him and lets a cold hand run through his hair.

"You have to stop talking back." Jaejoong chides, voice low, thumb at the outside corner of Changmin's eyes, lips wet from licking them, thighs sliding between Changmin's, bare, warm.

Changmin inhales in order to exhale a 'shut up' but it never comes, gets lost somewhere in his throat. He feels like crying, like running away, like staying easy and malleable to Jaejoong's hands and wishes.

"I'm sorry." He says, instead, opening his mouth for a kiss and sighing when Jaejoong complies, slim body pressing him down and away from his thoughts.

\--

"I want to try something" Jaejoong says, when Changmin goes to the kitchen the next morning, everything blurry and golden with sunlight.

"Yeah?" He asks, using the back of one hand to scrub at his cheek, the other grazing the doorframe.

"You can't say no." It's not a question, and Changmin takes a deep breath, says nothing when he sees the knife Jaejoong is holding. Opens his mouth to kiss and swallows, wincing when he feels the bitter tang of a pill as it starts to dissolve on the back of his throat. 

Jaejoong gives him a glass of water and he takes it, letting himself be led back to the bedroom, allowing his body to be pushed into the bed and then arranged with his legs spread.

"Don't move" Jaejoong says, straddling him, right hand gripping just above his wrist and placing it on the pillow, just beside his face. He sounds far away, almost, eyes huge and mouth bitten almost red. The mattress is soft under Changmin's back, and he presses his heels down on it when the knife first comes down, closes his eyes when he feels the blood start running to stain the pillowcase. Bites down a whine when the knife digs in again, close, cutting.

\--

He wakes with Jaejoong slapping his cheek, Yunho standing behind him with his face so closed off in anger that Changmin takes a minute to respond, finally grumbling a curse when Jaejoong slaps him again. 

"Come on," Yunho says, shoving Jaejoong away and helping Changmin stand up, keeping him up when he stumbles on air, dizzy. His wrist is still bleeding, slow but surely, and when he looks, both the pillow and half the bed are wet with blood, some of it dripping down to a puddle on the wood floor.

Yunho starts walking him towards the bathroom and Changmin doesn't look back when Jaejoong calls his name, voice sharp, pretends not to notice how Yunho tenses when his own name is called.

Yunho closes the bathroom door behind them and makes Changmin sit on the closed lid of the toilet, taking an emergency kit from under the sink and wiping the blood away from the wound carefully with a piece of gauze.

"This is going to hurt." He says, threading a needle.

"Yeah" Changmin says, low, and his head makes a dull thud when it hits the wall.

\--

Jaejoong isn't there when they finally emerge from the bathroom. Yunho offers his bed to Changmin but he refuses, thanks him quietly and walks home with trembling hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter came out a bit shorter than usual but this story is helping me get through nanowrimo this year so i'll hopefully be able to update more often and finish this before the year is over


	7. we'll collide (and end up casualties)

Three knocks, quick.

"There's someone here to see you" Junho says, muffled through the door.

Changmin blinks, tries to curl his fingers and exhales hard through the pain. Ignores Junho's insistent knocking and doesn't move.

\--

He's halfway through the living room when he notices Yunho, sitting with his back straight on the couch. Changmin glances quickly at the clock then back at him, face swollen with bruises, wearing a long-sleeved and high-collared sweater even though the air feels oppressively hot and humid.

"How long have you been here?" His voice is rough, breaking with disuse. 

"Not long" Yunho says, standing up. Lying, because it's been at least two hours since Junho gave up on trying to get an answer out of him, stopped trying to open the locked door of Changmin's room. "How are you?"

"How do you think?" He shows Yunho his back and reaches for the fridge. Stops, when he sees the red that seeps through the bandages on his wrist. 

"I thought we should get you to a hospital, maybe- I." Yunho steps into the kitchen with him but doesn't approach, voice so slow he's almost whispering. "I'm worried."

"I'm not going to the hospital."

"What of infection-"

"Fuck infection!" He slaps his hand against the fridge and regrets it, pulls his arm to his chest with the sting of pain, feels tears threatening to spill down his flushed cheeks. When he bothers to look up, Yunho is close, crusted blood forming a half ring on his lower lip.

"Changmin-ah, please."

He breathes hard, trying to pretend that Yunho is whole and unscathed before him, trying to see him clear-skinned and smiling. It doesn't work.

\--

"He did that?" Changmin asks, as Yunho gently cleans the wound with a wet cotton, the alcohol stinging even more as it catches on the stitches.

"You don't remember?" Yunho looks up at him with wide eyes, almost scared.

"To you. Your face."

"Oh." The hand that is holding Changmin's arm still twitches, squeezes a bit too hard. "He- I." Yunho's lips thin, his eyebrows furrowing.

"The other time, too?"

"I was scared." Yunho throws the cotton on the sink, picks a new one and passes it quickly over the wound, feather-light. "For you." He throws this ball of cotton away too, spreads his fingers on the sensitive skin around the wound. "If he cut too hard, he could've gotten to your tendons. Made it impossible for you to write properly again, or at all." He sighs, pinky tapping against Changmin's wrist bone before his hand retreats, taking gauze and wrapping it efficiently over Changmin's wrist.

"You know that because...?" And something in him knows he shouldn't press, should let it be, but it's Yunho. Gentle, irritating, nice Yunho who came to see how he was even though he wasn't the one who caused it, even though he has nothing to do with it, even though he's not responsible for Jaejoong or Changmin or how fucked up all of this is.

Yunho's smile is small, bitter and self-deprecating, eyes lowered to the ground. "Can't really move my little toes." The toes inside his left sock rise, and the ones inside his right sock twitch, as if trying and failing to mirror the actions of his other foot.

Changmin inhales one, two, three times, and only exhales when the edges of his vision start to blacken.

\--

"You're still here." Junho throws a smile Yunho's way as he comes in, barely opening the door to Changmin's room despite the permission to come inside.

"I thought I'd call for food soon and we could have lunch together, if you want?" Yunho smiles back, fake and bright.

"Sure." Junho waves to Changmin before closing the door again.

Forty minutes later Yunho is thanking the delivery boy and Changmin is staring at the three flowerpotts standing innocently under the window of their living room.

"What's that?"

"Oh, those are from my brother." Junho smiles, full and proud, and he finishes setting the table before gesturing Changmin over. 

"Why would your brother send you flowers?" He asks, eyebrows raised, mumbling angrily as Yunho shoulders him away when he tries to reach for the food. 

"We're twins. He finally got signed with an entertainment company, so, since I'm not there to celebrate, he sent these to me." 

"It doesn't make any sense." Changmin mutters, nodding in thanks as Yunho hands him a bowl full of spicy ramen. 

"His brother is being nice. Let them be." Yunho says, twirling noodles on his chopsticks. He grins weakly at Changmin before chewing.

\--

"I was supposed to get a job this summer." Changmin says, unwrapping the popsicle that Yunho gave him. It's later, and Changmin feels oddly subdued by how Yunho kept touching him through lunch and after, friendly and gentle and with no intent behind it. 

"You need money?" Their feet make splashy noises as they walk through wet asphalt, aimless if not for how they're staying on quiet streets. 

"Not really? I'd be nice to have it, be able to eat meat, buy some new clothes" He shrugs, bites the popsicle and wonders if it'll dye his tongue blue. "You work?"

"I give dance lessons on a studio close to home. Mostly teach kids that dream of being idols, you know" Yunho scratches behind his ear, looking far away even though they're close enough to touch. "I wanted to be one, once. So it's a bit… Strange, teaching them."

"You wanted to be an idol?" Changmin can't help his tone of voice, the way he sounds halfway between reprimanding and amused.

"Stupid, I know." Yunho fiddles with the bag of sweets he's holding. "But something to look forward to, I guess. Actually, I-" He laughs, genuine, low. "Was in one of those weird entertainment agencies for a while. Started having japanese lessons and all, but then my little sister got sick and I couldn't stay the whole day training for something that someday might make me rich while my parents were away working and she was alone at the hospital." 

"Do you regret quitting?"

"We all regret things." Yunho looks at Changmin's face and pointedly so, but it's clear what he's thinking. "It was my sister, though. My mother always said that company is the best medicine. Nowadays my little sister emails me every day. So there's that."

 _You must love her a lot_ , He thinks but doesn't say, remembering his sister small and fragile when she gave him goodbye at the airport, all stubborn defiance of being able to survive without her idiotic brother but still with tears running down her flushed cheeks.

"Women are complicated." Changmin says, thinking of looking at pictures of women online and wondering if he'd ever love one beyond the shape of her breasts, the curve of her spine.

"They are." Yunho throws an arm over his shoulders and leaves it there, fabric of his sweater scratching Changmin's nape but still comfortable, safe. 

\--

He's at the park translating the mess of japanese at his chemistry textbook when the girl approaches, hair long and dyed almost-purple. 

"Don't we know each other?" She asks, waiting for Changmin to look up before sitting next to him on the grass. She's wearing a long black t-shirt littered with red crosses and black jean shorts, purse hanging from her left hand.

"I don't think so." He says after a beat, having to think for too long in order to understand japanese. 

"I'm pretty sure." She smiles and leans forward, peeking at the papers spread around him. "Oh, korean? Aren't you Hero's friend?" 

"Hero who?" He blinks, and it's a moment before it dawns on him. "Oh, Jaejoong."

Her smiles grows. "Yes, him!" One of her hands come to rest near his ankle, nails painted black and fingers small, delicate. "You're… Together, right?"

Changmin startles at that, eyes traitorously wide as he looks at her, pen falling from his hand. "I-"

"It's okay." She giggles, righting herself. "I'm not going to tell. It's cute." She says cute like she means something else, and he adjusts the wristband covering his bandages nervously. "Well, I should leave." She gets up, brushing grass off her legs before giving him half a bow and leaving with a smiley 'bye'.

It takes Changmin five minutes to realize that he doesn't know - remember? - her name and he spends some time staring at the pen balancing on his thigh before deciding that he doesn't care. 

\--

"I'm sure they won't ask" Yunho smiles, he's always smiling, and folds the magazine he was reading when Changmin just keeps staring at him. "Look, I'm not a professional, it's better if- Well, if someone qualified takes a look at it. I might've done something wrong, and I don't want you hurt, okay?"

Changmin presses his lips together but nods, angry, humiliated. The nurses do ask, one even offering him a card with the police number written carefully on it, and they all look at Yunho when they think he isn't paying attention. Changmin accepts it all without saying much, caught between horrified and furious when he hears them whispering about "boys like _that_ getting what they deserve" as they walk away.

\--

**(are you free?**

**where are you?**

**answer me**

**changmin.)**


	8. not of happenstance / but a victim all the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made some changes in chapter one, nothing major. also obviously failed at nanowrimo, so no promises regarding when this will be finished. it will, though, hopefully before june.

Changmin spends a lot of time thinking about the girl at the park, at how she said 'together' and knew no better, about perception and how people see things and assume things and how he and Yunho seem to be the only ones aware of what really is happening. Aware but not speaking, Yunho rarely divulging any information other than that he's still living with Jaejoong, still working, still doing 'just fine, don't worry'.

"Does he ask about me?" Changmin dares, one night, half-drunk with beer and sleep, eyes almost closed and lazy heartbeat loud in his ears.

"It's going to be okay" Yunho says, firm, reaching across the table to touch Changmin's elbow, face determined and safe, voice familiar through the agitated japanese music flowing through the restaurant they're at. 

"Don't get hurt." Changmin says back, fingers skating the inside of Yunho's forearm, shaky and so stupidly afraid. 

\--

The water swirling down the drain is tinged from the blood that his nails brought forth. His wrist is pink-angry, scar a mess through the blurriness of his tears and the stinging of shampoo on his eyes. 

Sometimes when he's alone, Changmin closes his eyes tight and forgets, goes back in time - lying on his bed at home waiting for sleep to come or for something to happen, knuckles dry and mouth slightly open, breath silent and teeth biting back boredom in form of sighs. Goes back to being scrawny and determined and a boy like any else, a good son watching porn when the house was dark and his door was shut, fist closed around his dick and eyes full with large-breasted girls. 

Sometimes he tries to convince himself that Jaejoong isn't a proof of his failure, that liking the weight of a man on top of him isn't as much of a mistake as he was raised to believe it to be. 

The wound burns when he washes it, his hips stutter when he comes without touching his dick and metal floods his mouth when he bites his tongue. 

\--

"It'll never heal" Is the first thing he says, eyes fixed on the dip of Jaejoong's collarbones, on the droplets or water that accumulate there. They're in the middle of the street, caught mid-storm. Changmin vaguely remembers having plans to go to the bookstore two streets down and returning home after. Instead, he'd frozen the moment he heard Jaejoong call his name, and now here they are, soaked and pretending a storm isn't happening around them, isn't trying to claw its way out of Changmin's skull in panicked terror. "The scar will never fade."

"I know" Jaejoong says, feral, low, close. He has a hand wrapped around Changmin's wet excuse of a wristband, grip firm and hurting. Somewhere down his throat and behind the thundering of his heart, Changmin knows he should scream, run, sprint and hide and never look back. 

He follows when Jaejoong motions him closer, touching, home. Lets Jaejoong's cold hand bring him in by the nape, until his face is pressed to the wet space between Jaejoong's shoulder and neck, shudders when fingers tangle in his hair and pull.

\--

"It's been a while" Jaejoong says, kicking his shoes and pants off, leaving them in a wet puddle by the door. Taking his shirt off too as he goes, leaving Changmin dripping and trembling, looking at the pale expanse of his back, the tattoos that spread there.

"Hyung" He says, and yes, Jaejoong is right, it's been a long time since the words last left his lips, and he watches as Jaejoong turns to him, linen closet still open from when he took a towel, lips pink and it's been too long. Changmin walks to him, blinking fast and letting the final raindrops still clinging to his eyelashes go, doesn't stop until Jaejoong has a thumb hooked under his jaw and is closing the door to his room behind them, taking Changmin's clothes off and then pressing him down until he's kneeling, mouth open and waiting.

"It's a good thing you don't need much convincing." Jaejoong drags his underwear down, just like that, drops the towel over Changmin's shoulder and takes his erection in hand, strokes it a few times before pushing the head between Changmin's lips. 

He dares to lick, careful with his teeth before trying to suck, swallowing down the voice in him that wanted a kiss and not a dick on his tongue, that knows this is wrong and he deserves more, or better, or someone not like Jaejoong at all, or all of that. 

\--

"Why are you doing this?" Yunho asks, disappointed, small. The morning after, in all the ways that count, and they both have matching bruises on their shoulders, Yunho's half-covered by his black tank top and Changmin's spreading down his bare skin in a spidery canvas of broken capillaries, reaching over where his heart is supposed to be. They're in the hallway, Yunho wet with sweat in his workout clothes and Changmin wearing only his underwear and what Jaejoong left on his skin. "You know better, Min-ah."

"Don't call me that" He says, trying to create distance despite how tainted he is to Yunho's variety of smiles and his thoughtfulness, by big, gentle hands caring for Changmin's hurts. His throat is sore and there's still a part of him that regrets coming over, that wishes he had never smiled back at Jaejoong all those months ago. It occurs to him that Yunho's bruises are fresh, still colored like pain and not like reminder, not yellow and brown and fading. "Have you- Did he-?" His fingers shake where they splay just a few millimeters away from Yunho's skin, and it's like all his joints are aching with the possibility of Jaejoong holding Yunho down and beating humiliation into his skin.

"If you truly cared," Yunho starts, low and rough, chin pointing towards his chest and fists clenching at his sides. "You wouldn't be here to ask." Their shoulders knock when Yunho walks past him, and Changmin flinches when the front door slams closed moments later.

\--

Changmin lets Jaejoong push him down, kick his thighs apart. Feels soft and vulnerable and like everything else Jaejoong does to him is not enough, feels dirty with the poor amount of lube Jaejoong deems to pour down the crack of his ass, trying not to allow weakness past his lips when fingers spread inside him and tug, too much too soon. Two days after all the bitter Yunho threw at him and Changmin still feels sore in his convictions, tensing when Jaejoong finally pushes in and swallowing back complaints as his cock drags hot and heavy and too full inside, condom forgotten and crinkling inside Changmin's clenched fist. 

It hurts from beginning to end and no one cares; Jaejoong made a point of going for pain a long time ago and Changmin was always too fascinated by him to know better, to ask for intricacies, to stop himself and wonder if this was what he wanted, liked, deserved. Happens twice more before Changmin goes home, limping and sporting ugly bruises under his clothes.

\--

Summer fades and with the start of layered clothes, Jaejoong's marks spread. Classes start again and Changmin walks into lessons a stranger, not bothering to acknowledge those he once called friends because their eyes see through him as if he were a ghost. It's something that should feel like defeat but instead comes like relief, the perceived freedom of having no one to answer to. He has to trudge through group assignments and ends in mismatched groups that don't really trust the fucked up korean kid to hold his own, eats alone enough times in the cafeteria that he ends up not eating at all, ignores his teachers' warning looks and walks home alone.

Junho waves at him when they cross paths on campus and Yunho ignores him. Jaejoong holds him down and fucks whatever he's feeling out of himself and into Changmin and it's fine, it should be, he wants to stop thinking about it all the fucking time. 

\--

"When did you last eat?" Junho asks, careful. Changmin doesn't see much of him, their schedules not allowing it, but they're both private enough that things like this don't seem to matter. Not this time, though.

"Lunch" He says, dismissive, not bothering to look up from where his coursework is spread around him on the floor. Junho doesn't leave, though, so he sighs. "What?"

"It's morning." Changmin looks up then, at Junho's wavering expression, the bowl of soup he's holding between his rough hands. "Here." He crouches and deposits it close to Changmin's elbow, chopsticks put down on top of a stack of papers full of equations he copied in an attempt to understand them. Junho is wearing his workout clothes, eyes still a bit swollen from sleep. 

"Thanks" 

Junho nods, smile strained, satisfied for the time being. Changmin waits until the front door closes before unlocking the screen of his phone, trying to comprehend how he managed to lose his friday night in an attempt to catch up with coursework of mere three weeks. His lower back throbs when he stands up and after flushing the soup down the toilet, he looks in the mirror and tries to find guilt in his expression. 

All he finds is exhaustion, and the edge of Jaejoong's attention coloring the skin under his eyes purple, his chest blue and green and yellow when he pushes the collar of his sweatshirt down to watch it expand.


	9. to run through my veins/ like a disease

Changmin is blinking through the sharp edges of loneliness when there's a knock on the door. He hums in acknowledgment and waits for Yunho's quiet "hey" before humming again. 

"I meant to ask" Changmin says, not bothering to look, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Jaejoong wasn't there when he woke up and Yunho is as predictable as- as something, he doesn't know, doesn't want to care enough to know. 

"Ask what?" Yunho sounds small, tired. There's the sound of his socks sliding on the wooden floor, the soft thump of his body settling on the floor near the bed. 

Changmin extends a hand, searching and- there, the still-wet spikes of Yunho's hair. He flexes his fingers, lets his nails rest on Yunho's scalp. "If you think he's so bad- If you truly think he's that-"

"Isn't he?" Yunho sighs, moves his head a bit. 

"Maybe he's just," But are there any excuses, really? Just, what? Aggressive? Possessive? "I don't know. He's not... All bad."

Yunho scoffs, moves away. Changmin dares to look at him and wishes he hadn't, was hoping to see Yunho and not the collection of bruises spread before him like some sort of grotesque painting changing colors and shapes on Yunho's face, arms, neck. 

"It's not about goodness or badness, Min-ah."

Changmin lets the name roll off him, feels glad that he's still lying down because Yunho stands to face him and he can see bruises blooming in the stretch of skin between Yunho's shirt and sweatpants, is glad his knees won't buckle.

"Why are you still...?" And Changmin can look everywhere but at Yunho, at his honest face and his marred skin.

"Jae has pictures, videos." Lines on his face all curved downwards, shoulders hunching. "Of me, doing things." Yunho looks down, presses a hand to his own neck.

"What things?" Mouth so dry he can barely speak, tongue awkward inside his mouth and stomach knotting, regretting turning to look, regretting being here, everything.

"Wearing a collar for him. Keeping myself all spread and open." Yunho shrugs, like he hasn't started trembling all over with the admission. "Taking... Things, inside. In a way no one should."

Changmin has to- has to do- something, has to take the question back and forget this, has to run away all the way back to Korea, where this isn't happening. "Why did you let him?"

"Do that? Because he asked me to and I loved him enough to say yes," Yunho laughs, bitter and forced. "Well, at first he did. Then one time he gave me something and I couldn't fight back so he filmed me and-" Nails in, knuckles whitening with pressure. "And then a year passed and he got bored." 

"A year-" Changmin sits up, grips the sheet hard.

"It might've gone on for longer but after, after my toes, I guess he meant to... I don't know. My little sister, you know, came to spend a week with us and I couldn't be any different from the big brother she was expecting so he stopped long enough for most of the marks to fade and when she went back home he wasn't interested anymore."

"But you didn't leave." Spitting it out, feeling so- so, so terribly dirty. 

Yunho raises an eyebrow at him, laughs incredulously, raises both hands. Asking 'fucking really?' with all of his body. "I couldn't." Like that's it, like- "And that's why... When he started going out with you, I thought he was different- He seemed calmer. But then-"

"You say all these things and yet here we are." Changmin leans forward, all spite and malice. "Here _you_ are." He raises a hand and flicks the bruise closest to him, the one blackening over Yunho's hipbone, focuses on the flinch caused. "So I guess you should shut the fuck up and stop trying to drive me away through some shitty made up horror stories." And then, crueler still: "Yunho-ah"

"You" Yunho looks at him, lips white and eyes wide, surprised and hurt and not angry yet. "I told you-"

"We're not even friends" Changmin says, again after so long, stands up and shoves hard at Yunho's shoulder with his own when he passes him on his way out of the room. 

\--

"You lost a lot of weight." His mom says, voice distorted from the bad connection. Changmin shrugs, knowing she can't see, and adjusts the blanket around his shoulders. "And you hair-" She continues, sounding exasperated and tired. He doesn't care enough to listen, looking out the window, thinking of how much time he has left before he can hang up and go back to doing nothing. 

Lately he's been spending his every spare second at Jaejoong's, either sprawled on his bed alone or being suffocated with his presence. It's easier than spending time at the apartment where Junho seems to be overly preoccupied with prying into a life that isn't his, easier than trying to forget Yunho's words and failing. Most nights he lies awake and tries not to think of the unused condoms accumulating under the bed, fighting down his urge to fidget in favor of not waking Jaejoong.

"And how are your grades?" His mom asks, still far away, unknowing of the way perversion twists him up until he's begging for Jaejoong to stop, and please, and harder, and no, and worse still - please don't leave me.

He answers her without paying attention, hangs up soon after. Bites his knuckles and pretends he's not shaking.

\--

"Should I start paying you in order to get your attention?" Jaejoong asks, eyebrow arched, looking at him as if he's asked him something and gotten no response, as if he isn't the one who has been doing it to Changmin since day one.

"Sorry." 

"Where were you?"

Changmin hides a yawn behind his hand, startles when Jaejoong slaps his hand away. "Sorry" He says again, because what else? "The year went by too fast." 

"Seemed to drag on for me." Jaejoong shrugs, takes another sip from his beer. 

"Anyway." Changmin shifts his legs under the table, tries to gather courage from where it keeps trying to run down his spine and spread all over the floor in a puddle of failure. "You'll be here for christmas?"

Jaejoong doesn't answer, just looks at him over the rim of his bottle until Changmin has to look away, down, swallow back whatever stupid hope he had managed to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> working on this for nanowrimo once again. my writing style has changed a lot since uni but am trying my best at keeping it stable for this one.


End file.
